


Snow

by nightmarefuckboy



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Car Sex, Don't Like Don't Read, First Time, M/M, Miya has it bad for Langa and it shows, Miya is 17 and Langa is 14, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tender Sex, age-swap, bottom langa, no beta we die like men, top miya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29117244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmarefuckboy/pseuds/nightmarefuckboy
Summary: Miya wants Langa. He knows he shouldn't but he does anyway.
Relationships: Chinen Miya/Hasegawa Langa, Hasegawa Langa/Chinen Miya
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	Snow

They’ve started to call Langa “Snow.” The nickname is fitting. Not creative in the slightest, but fitting nonetheless. Langa has more in common with snow than just his practically crystal white hair, though. He’s quiet. Snow always surprises you with its presence, falling softly and coating the world in its powdery splendor. Langa did the same thing to “S”. He just showed up one day with that loud-mouth Reki and stole the scene with his skating after just one race. One race that he barely won. Of course it pissed Miya off, considering that was him not too long ago. The wunderkind who could strike fear into the heart of the most experienced of skaters. He needed to knock this kid down, make him think twice before skating in the big leagues again. 

There’s only room for one young savant in the league, and it’s Miya. 

But… 

When they finally raced, Miya realized two things. First Langa doesn’t actually skate, he glides. It became obvious that his background wasn’t on wheels—it was on the powdery mountainside. The chill that came from Langa flying over his head after dismounting from the (dangerous) rail on the “S” race course quite literally took his breath away and made him realize thing number two. 

Langa is beautiful. 

Miya doesn’t want to call him by that stupid nickname because there are so many other things be can call the kid that would fit him better. Yet it feels so good on his tongue whenever he lets it slip. And he enjoys the way Langa’s too blue eyes flicker towards him, batting long, white eyelashes against pale cheeks. The look gives Miya a shot of adrenaline, this rush that no seventeen year old should be allowed to feel from someone who is fourteen. It doesn’t stop Miya from chasing the feeling, after all he is an adrenaline junkie by nature. All skateboarders are. They crave the high and will go after it, even if it’s wrong.

On a lazy summer evening after practicing kickflips until their feet ache, Miya and Langa find themselves with their backs against the blacktop—watching the sky change from orange, to purple, to dark blue. Reki left about an hour ago, something about having to clean his room before his mom gets home, so Langa and Miya are completely alone. Laying in silence as cicadas chirp their evening song. 

Miya should get going soon too, he promised his mom he’d get gas before he got home and he still has to drop Langa off at his place. The sooner he gets Langa home, the better. However Miya feels trapped where he is—his right shoulder centimeters away from Langa’s left. There’s pressure on his chest, holding him in place, and his lips press into a thin line. He doesn’t know what to say to break this tension, to lift this curse of wanting someone he can’t have so badly. 

“I never got to do this back home,” Langa finally says quietly. 

Miya turns his head to see Langa still staring up at the sky. He looks so unbelievably soft against the warm hues of the sky—his cheeks flush pink and his hair shines almost iridescent and blue. Fuck, this kid is too pretty for words. It really isn’t fair. How can anyone expect Miya not to give in to the temptation of playing in the Snow? 

“In Canada?” Miya’s voice cracks embarrassingly. 

“Mhm,” Langa turns to his side and faces Miya, his chin length bangs falling slightly in his face. 

  
  
  


“Too cold?” Miya asks, keeping his sentences short on purpose. 

Langa shakes his head and tucks his bangs behind his ear, eyes shifting away from Miya’s face for only a moment in that shy way girls do before they’re about to confess something big. Goodbye sanity, it was nice knowing you. “No. I just never had anyone to lay with…” His voice trails off and his lips spread into a subdued smile, “I’m happy you’re laying with me now.” 

It’s not a confession, but it fucking hits Miya like one. His heart thrashes in his chest and his temperature skyrockets, making his cheeks sting. How fucking embarrassing. What is he? A blushing virgin!? As if! Miya’s gained his fair share of experience with countless “S” groupies who practically threw themselves at him. He fingered an eighteen year old when he was fifteen and made her cum three times. Laying next to some boy he barely knows shouldn’t make him feel like he’s about to burst into flames. Yet here he is, tied to the stake and ready to be made into a Miya-kebab. All because some little _snow bunny_ is happy to be in his company. 

What an actual joke. 

Miya swallows, hoping any moisture in his mouth will quench his drier than dry throat. “Me too…”

Wait that came out wrong. 

“I mean! I’m happy you’re here with me as well...” Miya crosses his arms and turns away from Langa. Not his smoothest recovery, but it’s not his worst either. 

Langa has the audacity to laugh, all airy and light just like new snow. There’s rustling, then two arms wrap around Miya’s torso, immediately turning him a stiff, small spoon.

“You’re funny, Miya-san,” Langa sighs and nudges the space of Miya’s middle back with his nose. This is it. This is how Miya will die, in the arms of an unmitigated jailbait. 

Here lies Miya Chinen—Olympic Skateboard Champion and cradle robber. 

“Langa…” 

“Mm?” Miya feels Langa’s face move upward towards his cervical curve, soft lips barely touching his burning skin. 

This is bad, _very_ bad. 

“What are we doing?” Miya dares to ask. He knows what he wants to be doing. He wants to turn around and capture those lips with his own. Pin those wrists down against the blacktop and show Langa just how good he can make him feel with only his mouth. Introduce Langa to a whole world of pleasure unlike anything he’s ever felt before and leave him ruined for anyone who might come after. They’re the only one’s left in the skatepark. No one would ever know—it’d be so easy. But it can’t possibly be what Langa wants, there’s no way. 

“I dunno, what _are_ we doing?” There is no uncertainty in his voice, nor is there naivete that you’d expect from someone like Langa—a novice with everything to lose. 

Miya can’t speak, can’t move, can’t _breathe_ without the fear of his desires betraying him. Langa’s small body, pressed so close and perfectly fitting the curve of Miya’s spine, is a heavy weight on his entire being and his body (the amorous bastard that it is) reacts accordingly. 

Thank God they’re not facing each other. 

“Miya-san…” Langa rests his chin on Miya’s shoulder. “What do _you_ want us to do?” 

It’s a fork in the road, a death sentence. He can either shove his desires down into the deepest pits of his being. Burry them once and for all so they never have a chance of surfacing again. He and Langa can go about their lives and stay as nothing more than friends. It’s how things should be, it’s how things are _supposed_ to be. 

Or… 

He can do the exact opposite. 

-0-

Beneath a single LED light in the back of the skatepark’s parking lot, a thin layer of condensations fog the windows of Miya’s blue Daihatsu. The vehicle’s frame rocks ever so slightly from side to side, just barely giving away what’s going on inside if the opaque windows weren’t enough of a tip. 

“Miya-san,” Langa sighs into Miya’s mouth before slipping his tongue past Miya’s parted lips. It’s clear Langa doesn’t know what he’s doing, but it doesn’t bother Miya one bit. He uses the inexperience to his advantage, immediately sucking on Langa’s eager tongue to draw out little whimpers from the boy who straddles his lap in the back seat of his car. Wherever Miya’s hands touch—Langa’s flushed torso, his soft stomach, his puffy pink nipples—feels so right and complete. It’s as if Miya had been born to be this intimate with Langa and he’s _remembering_ his body rather than learning it deeply for the first time. Finally able to reach out and let his own desires guide him, Miya does everything he can to make Langa feel as good as humanly possible.

As Miya pulls back, Langa chases his soft mouth with chaste kisses, all while gulping down as much air as he can before diving in for more. Langa’s mewls fuel Miya, drive him absolutely wild and make his temperature rise. The sweat on Miya’s back is probably staining the nylon upholstery, but he doesn’t care. The inside of his car could get trashed to all hell and it wouldn’t bother Miya. Not as long as Langa is grinding desperately into his lap. 

Langa drags his lips against Miya’s cheeks, planting wet kisses and adding tiny nips as he reaches Miya’s neck. 

“Easy,” Miya hisses as Langa’s teeth dig into the underside of his chin. He catches the boy’s head between his hands and presses their foreheads together. “Do you want people to get suspicious?” There isn’t a doubt in Miya’s mind that he’s going to wake up with a whole mess of bruises he’s going to have an _amazing_ time trying to hide. He remembers what it’s like to be so eager to mark your territory in the most obvious places, but he’s since learned there are better places to leave bruises. He’s not opposed to showing Langa where they are if that’s what he wants. 

Langa looks at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes through his thick, snow white eyelashes. His hands curl around the back of Miya’s neck, fingers toying with his hairline at the nape. The way Langa licks his lips and grinds his hips into his lap tells Miya all he needs to know. 

“Alright, but if you get to mark me up, I should get to do the same, yeah?” Miya murmurs. If Miya’s going to go down, he’s dragging Langa along with him. 

Langa’s breath hitches, chest rising slightly, and his pupils blow wide. “Y-yeah,” he says and cranes his neck to the side, presenting himself to Miya. 

Miya happily licks the column of Langa's neck sinks his teeth into pale flesh, sucking and kissing until a pretty purple and pink bruise forms. 

“ _Ahh! Miya-san_ ,” Langa hisses and tightens his grip on Miya’s shoulders. Miya makes sure to mark Langa where he can easily hide it, just in case the kid changes his mind about being proud of what they’re about to do later—right where the clavicle and trapezius meet. 

“You taste so good, _Snow.”_

That fucking nickname shouldn’t make Langa moan the way he does—high pitched and dripping with unbridled horniness. The sound goes right to Miya’s dick, causing it to throb and strain against the fabric of his too tight clothes. Miya knows Langa feels his firmness by the way the boy’s body suddenly stiffens and stills. 

Again, Miya uses Langa’s inexperience to his advantage. 

“Do you want this?” he asks—lips pressed against the shell of Langa’s ear—and gently rolls his hips, bouncing Langa slightly in his lap. “Do you want my thick cock inside you, _Otōto-san_?” 

“Y-yes!” Langa gasps and ruts against Miya’s groin, grinding their clothed erections together in delicious friction. 

“You’re going to have to lay down for that. Is that okay?” 

“Yes!” Langa mewls, leaning up to leave searing kisses across Miya's bare chest. 

“I’m going to open you up with my fingers. Is that okay?” Miya's hands gently guide Langa's head away, rubbing his thumbs across Langa’s rosy cheeks in tiny, comforting circles. 

“Yes,” Langa leans into the touch and swipes his tongue at Miya’s thumb, capturing the digit in this soft mouth and sucking lewdly. He releases Miya’s thumb with a pop, letting a strand of saliva dribble from his lips and keep them connected. I want you bad Miya-san, _please hurry,”_ Langa moans

“ _Shit,”_ Miya curses under his breath—this boy has no right being this sexy. “Alright, let’s get you ready then.” 

Miya takes his time preparing Langa, stretching him open enough to take two fingers without any pain. He makes sure to find Langa’s prostate and give it some extra attention. Langa keens beneath him, eyes screwed shut and his mouth hanging open. His naked body shudders so violently that his back arches into a near perfect ‘C’ shape—nearly matching the curve in his dick that bobs and thrusts into the open air. Miya didn’t think that Langa could get any more beautiful than he already is, but he was wrong. So, _so_ wrong. He almost feels guilty that he’s the only one who gets to see Langa look like this—so wrecked and so unbelievably gorgeous. 

Then again, Miya has a tendency to be a bit selfish. 

“Do you feel that?” Miya says as he massages the nerve, “That’s the target where I’m gonna drill my cock into. I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he murmurs.

After edging Langa for the better part of five minutes. Miya sits on his knees and he wraps Langa’s quivering thighs around his waist. He eases his cock slowly into Langa’s warm and exquisitely tight hole. He lets Langa adjust to the stretch, only moving when given permission and offering up encouragement every chance he gets. 

“You feel so good Langa-kun. You’re too perfect,” Miya groans and leans down to kiss Langa’s neck, sliding all the way in until their damp skin touches. He grinds deep into Langa’s ass, hitting the spot he promised he would nearly every time, making Langa’s voice climb higher and higher. 

Miya’s car shakes as his thrusts get quicker, _deeper,_ and more erratic. The windows are completely opaque at this point, shielding them from the outside world, from the musky heat coming off of their sweaty bodies bumping together in wet slaps. 

“Miya-san, I’m… I’m…” Langa barely chokes out on a wave of desperate sobs. 

“Hold on just a little bit…” Miya groans, voice hoarse and gravely. The drop Miya’s abdomen and sinking sensation in his balls warns him that his release is imminent too. Langa nods weakly and bites his lip, allowing Miya to plow him until they just barely climax at the same time. Their gasps for air, heavy and ragged breaths, sync as they come down from their post orgasm high. 

“Was that what you wanted us to do?” Miya finally asks, wiping beads of sweat from his brow and falling to lay beside Langa. They can barely fit, stretched horizontally across the back seats, but they make it work. Miya wraps his arms around Langa and hugs their naked bodies together, skin against skin. 

Langa nods. “It was nice, I’m glad we did it,” he says sleepily and nuzzles himself into Miya’s embrace. “We should do this again. Preferably on a bed.” 

Miya rolls his eyes, but kisses the top of Langa’s head. “What makes you think there’s going to be a next time?” 

“I dunno,” Langa yawns. “I’m just hoping there will be,” he says as his eyes slip shut. Miya stares at the sky through the sunroof. The edges of the window are still cloudy with condensation, but he can see enough of a crescent moon. _Next time._ He likes the sound of that. 

**Author's Note:**

> i know this ship isn't for everyone... but as long as there's gilbert cocteau lookin' mother fuckers in anime/manga, someone SOMEWHERE is going to make porn of them. that's just the nature of the beast.
> 
> i will not apologize, nor will i stop writing smut of miya. if i don't... then who will!? i say in the tags "don't like, don't read" for a FUCKING reason. and if seeing my fics in the tag bothers you, please feel free to filter your search!! it's so easy to curate your internet experience these days. 
> 
> if you are into miya smut, then i want you to know that you are not a freak, nor should you be made to feel bad about your shipping preferences. these characters are FICTIONAL and just because you enjoy seeing this FICTIONAL 14 year old get railed in FICTION it ABSOUTELY DOES NOT mean you enjoy that irl. i know i fucking don't. actual LIVING BREATHING children are disgusting and i don't want to be associated with them what so ever. 
> 
> anywhomst, time to get off my soap box and let you enjoy the rest of your lives!


End file.
